The Edge
by InspiringLight
Summary: Maybe a century, going on two, is too long. He is curious. He wants to know how it feels like, to have his life drain away bit by bit. To have heaving gasps tear through his lips as his finds meaning again in what it means to be alive. He thinks he lost that meaning long ago. "I just really want to know how it's like to die and not be able to do anything about it. Not anymore."
1. Leave

Hey guys. Just a fic I've been thinking of writing awhile. I haven't written for some time so this probably isn't my best work but do give it a try.

Set somewhere during Season 4, before the break-up between Stefan and Elena.

Brotherly-love, next chapter should be up soon if things go my way. And do leave me a review. :)

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Vampire Diaries or any of its characters.

* * *

The house is quiet.

Damon stares at the glass of bourbon in his hand, swirling the liquid slowly. The drink should look inviting, as it always has. A frown touches the vampire's forehead. Bourbon helped keep the thirst for blood at bay. But he has long controlled that desire.

No. He needs it to keep sane.

Damon smirks silently to himself. Sanity. He fell over the edge ages ago, shortly after he became a vampire. Pretending to be someone he was not, someone he soon became, and now that same someone who can't be that someone anymore.

The door opens.

He pours another glass with bourbon. "Want some?"

Stefan raises an eyebrow but nods. He enters and leans against the back of the couch casually. "You called? Sounded urgent."

Damon shrugs. "Oh, it's nothing important." He glances at his brother. "Here." Hands over the drink.

The younger Salvatore's eyebrow twitches. "Nothing important?" he repeats. He tilts his head upwards for a moment and breathes in heavily. "Seriously, Damon? Elena's a _vampire_. We don't have time for your little games."

"Ah, you see. There right there is the problem slash issue I needed to tell you about." Damon shoots his brother a pointed look. Forgoing his glass, he takes out a bottle of bourbon from the cabinet and tilts it to take a swig from it. "You see, there is no longer a 'we'."

Stefan's look of impatience falls away, quickly replaced by confusion, then worry and caution. "What do you mean?"

Damon shrugged. "Means you're on your own now, Stefan."

"Da-"

"Oh wait, you're not. You have Elena" – Damon raises his hand and begins to count his fingers – "Jeremy, Bonnie, Caroline, Matt etcetera etcetera."

"Damon, stop playing around. This isn't funny."

Damon rolls his eyes. "Yeah, you're right. I'm having one heck of a time pulling your leg, Stef." Sarcasm has always been his strong point.

Stefan stares at him a moment. His eyebrows furrow as he tries to understand his brother's temperament. "What happened?"

"I'm leaving, Stefan. You guys don't need me anymore." Damon turns, looks his brother in the eye. "I don't want to be here anymore."

* * *

He often wonders how long he'll live.

He's a vampire, but he has always reconciled with the fact that all beings _die_. Someday, somehow. It doesn't matter how much he fights back (oh yes, if he is going to die, it wouldn't be without a fight to the death), or who his killer is. What matters is that, one day, Damon Salvatore will die. He will die and the world will not change. Everyone he has ever known, if any were still alive, will move on as if nothing happened.

That is the image that Damon has drawn up whenever he thinks of the future.

A small frown touches his forehead. Will Stefan still be alive? (Oh who is he kidding? His brother will never die before him. It has always been him dying first, or they die together. _Damon smirks at this thought._) Elena? Will anyone care? Will anyone notice enough to remember him by now and then?

If anyone sees his usual spot at the grill and think '_Damon used to sit there_.' with a sad smile on their face…

This series of thoughts appear before the forefront of his mind especially at a time like now. With his brother going off the deep end and coming back, worse for the wear but his brother nonetheless; with many enemies practically queuing to kill them all, Originals included.

Damon doesn't want to think he'll die before ensuring that Stefan and Elena and…that they are safe. Safe enough to be without him.

Because even though he may not always be wanted around enough, he still plays an important role in keep the town's residents safe.

Yet, Damon Salvatore can't help thinking…

What is it like…

…to die?

* * *

Do leave a review! :) Let me know what you think.


	2. Hate

Thank you for your reviews! :)

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Vampire Diaries or any of its characters.

* * *

"Stefan said you're leaving."

"And he goes running to his girlfriend," Damon mutters. A smirk plants itself firmly on his face as he turns and gives Elena a shrug. He raises a hand flippantly. "Oh come now, Elena. Don't need to kick up a fuss. It's no big deal."

"No big deal?" Elena repeats, incredulous. "You're leaving town. How is that not a big deal?"

Damon unscrews the bottle of liquor in his hands and tilts the bottle, allowing the smooth liquid to slide down his throat. Reaching for the back of his neck, he frowns.

"Damon, are you listening to me?"

He dips his head lazily. "Yeap, I'm listening."

Elena sighs. "I'm serious." She settles herself beside him on the couch and touches his shoulder. "Why are you leaving? Did something happen? Did…did we do something to-"

"Enough, Elena." Damon shoots her a glance. He gets up and walks to the window. Pulls the curtains aside. Pokes his head near the glass as he peers at something in the distance. _I must look so silly right now_. "Stefan, Bonnie and your little gang is here to protect you. So don't worry. And you're a vampire now so at least you can kick some ass if anyone tries to, you know, kill you." He smirks at this.

Elena closes her eyes and exhales. "I don't want you here for you to _protect_ me. I want you here because you're my _friend_."

"I had a wonderful time bonding with all of you too. I just think" – Damon places his hand on the glass separating him from the outside; his voice lowers a notch – "this town isn't the place for me anymore."

A look of confusion crosses the younger vampire's face. She goes up to him slowly, shaking her head in bemusement. "No one's chasing you away, Damon."

Damon tilts his head to stare at her. His hand lifts to hold her cheek as he brings his head closer to her. Both are silent for a moment.

"It's not you, Elena," he breathes. "It's me."

She looks as if she wants to say something but doesn't, and so he continues. "I'm a wanderer. I never stay around too long. It's what I have to do if I have to live forever."

"I'll have to too. So does Stefan and Caroline. You're not the only vampire."

Damon doesn't think he should but he smiles anyway. "That's the thing. All of you have to stay, because this place and its people are too important to you." He raises his shoulders and let them fall. "I can't, Elena. Not anymore."

"Why not? Aren't we important to you too?" Elena stares at him fiercely, determined. "You don't have to go, Damon. When the time comes, we can all go. Together. Hey, look at me."

Damon turns back to her. "Elena-"

"You don't have to be alone for eternity," she insists, a desperate plea coating her words, begging him to understand.

Damon breathes in deeply and sighs. "But I will be. That's what you don't understand. I have to be." The Salvatore bites his bottom lip. He knows he shouldn't continue this conversation. She always (usually) manages to convince him to do things he doesn't want to do and this is something he knows _must_ do. He inwardly curses. He shouldn't have told Stefan.

"Is it," Elena begins and hesitates. "Is it because I chose Stefan?"

Damon looks at her, surprised. "What?" An offended expression crosses his features. "Elena, seriously?"

Elena shrugs lightly. "Is it so surprising I think that way? Damon" – her forehead creases – "I'm sorry. I really am but, just because I chose him doesn't mean I don't care about you." She looks down at her feet. "I know that's not good enough, and that I'm being selfish for wanting you to stay…"

"You're right," Damon interrupts. "It's not good enough for me, Elena."

Her lips tremble and her expression grows increasingly pleading as she stares at him.

Damon hardens his resolve. "I'm sorry." He leans forward and presses his forehead to hers. "I want you and my brother to be happy. I really do. But I want to live my own life too, Elena."

A moment passes and she nods and closes her eyes. Breathing heavily she pushes herself away from him. "I understand. You be safe, okay?" Tries her hardest to smile.

Damon quirks the corners of his lips into a lopsided smile. "I'll call you."

He allows himself to hug her.

He thinks might as well.

* * *

Damon has always loved fire.

It licks at everything it touches, lights them up like lights on a Christmas tree, only this in a so much more _dangerous_ way. So enticing. Addictive.

He used to play with them as a child. He would burn his least favorable books, anything he could lay his hands on. He would watch the fire burn, his bright blue eyes following the streaks of orange-ish red that danced in the fireplace. He remembers trying to touch it once.

His mother cried, he thinks.

_What if you had fallen in? Do you know how painful that would be? Sweetheart?_

It was only when Stefan had nearly set himself ablaze by sitting too near the fire when he was five did Damon finally stop. Stopped admiring it. Stopped watching it with that fascinated glow in his face. Stopped looking at fire altogether.

His brother nearly died because of fire. Why should he love something that was so frightfully dangerous?

Damon can still recall himself in a fire on Founders' Day as well.

Stefan. Stefan, Stefan. He would have died without his brother.

_But it's okay. He saved me. I had a reason to…stay._

Now, he wonders.

If he were to die, would fire be the way to go?

It seemed to like him, counting the many times he (or his brother) almost died in a 'tragic' fire accident.

(He never considers himself dying to be a tragedy.)

* * *

He packs his bag that night. He doesn't have much stuff but he plans to bring what he has. It's the only solid proof that he owns anything. That it belongs solely to him.

Black shirts, black leather jackets, black button downs, black pants, black shoes, black suitcase.

He can't quite recall when he started going on an all black streak but he finds it fitting. He folds them neatly into his suitcase, zips it up and allows himself an imaginary pat on the back. He knows no one would do it for him anyway.

A part of him hesitates. He doesn't want to leave. The only people in more than a century who actually give a damn about him. Who actually cared, albeit in their own strange ways, enough to think him worthy enough to be saved.

He might actually miss it.

He thinks.

He figures when he returns to his old schedule of wandering the Earth, drinking, not caring, having _fun_…maybe he'll remember the people of Mystic Falls.

Perhaps he'll remember them and smile.

Stefan enters his brother's bedroom. His gaze skims over the neatly made bed, the suitcase by the door and interestingly his _journal_ on the suitcase. The crease on his forehead deepens and he almost brings himself to sigh. Even when leaving his brother never fails to annoy him.

He walks forward and is about to talk the book when the object disappears.

"Na uh, Stefan."

Stefan swivels round and sees a grinning Damon clasping his journal in his hands. He doesn't suppress a sigh this time. "That's my journal, Damon."

"Ah, about that." Damon tightens his grip on the book. "I'm taking this with me." The smirk doesn't falter.

An eyebrow twitches and the younger Salvatore has to think twice before he thinks he heard it right. He pauses. "What?"

Damon touches his chin in mock pretense. "Let me rephrase: I want your journal."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"Actually, I'm not. See, as your older brother, I have the right to take this with me."

Stefan rolls his eyes and holds out his hand. "Give it back to me, Damon."

Damon shakes his head, his eyes gleaming with a certain mischievous glint to them. "Come on, Stefan. Humor me. You might never see me again anyway so you might as well-"

All playfulness that may have been present in Stefan falls away. His countenance hardens in confusion. "What do you mean I might never see you again?"

Damon freezes a moment, his eyebrows furrowing before his expression smoothens. "I'm leaving, Stefan. The world is huge. What are the odds we'd see each other again?"

"That wasn't a problem before Mystic Falls."

"Because I always knew where you were, Stefan. I kept track of you."

If the younger vampire looks surprised, neither Salvatore acknowledges it. He nods slowly. "So you're not going to do that anymore? You're going to go and forget about everything just like that?"

Damon runs a hand through his dark wisps of black hair. Tugs at them a little. "You have vampires, a witch, even a werewolf, Stefan." He looks up and stares at his brother. "I told you I'd be there to pull you over the edge."

Realization crept into Stefan's features and he frowns; mouths the words his brother had said, "Until I don't need you."

"You don't need me anymore, Stefan. There's no reason for me to stay."

Stefan disappears in a blur and stops inches from his brother's face. "You don't get to decide that, Damon."

Damon narrows his eyes and they turn calculating. Cold. "Yes, I do." His grabs the other vampire's shoulder. "You forced me to live despite everything. This" – he gestures to the suitcase – "is my choice. You won't take this away from me."

"_Why?_ Is it because of Elena? Because of us?"

"No! But we had that agreement anyway. Whoever she doesn't choose leaves-"

"She's a vampire now!"

"I don't care," Damon snaps. He glares at his younger brother. "I'm leaving, Stefan. Nothing you say will change that."

Stefan fixes his gaze on Damon, searching. He blinks, then blurs to the other side of the room. "I thought we could finally settle our differences now. That after everything that we had gone through we could have the talk that we needed so much to have. And now you're leaving."

_And what if it happens again? If we meet and you somehow hate me?_

Damon tucks the journal in his suitcase. He stands and pauses. Breathes in the air. Stares at the room, then focuses on his brother.

"Goodbye, Stefan."

"You're not going to tell them."

Damon shrugs and seems to wait for a moment. Stefan pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to quell the uneasiness and the complete desire to stop his brother.

"Damon."

Damon looks up quickly, his expression guarded.

Stefan turns his body fully. "You didn't answer Elena, so at least let me know the reason you're leaving. No deflections."

There was a pause.

"I don't want to hate you."

* * *

Please review! :)

I don't know if this chapter was done well. My fics are generally written in past tense but thought I'd give it a try. I'm not really sure where this fic is going but if do tell me your thoughts. :)


	3. Can't Stay, Can't Go

The Edge – Chapter 3

Can't Go, Can't Stay

* * *

Thank you for the reviews. :) I appreciate them loads. This chapter may be a bit (or a lot) OOC and I'm really worried about that. I hope it's not but do tell me if the characters are OOC. I'll try my best to rectify the mistake.

Anyway, enjoy! :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Vampire Diaries or any of its characters.

* * *

_Stefan,_

_Attached is my new number. Don't tell anyone._

_Damon._

Stefan almost scowls at the letter in his hand. He's not sure if he should be surprised that Damon had left him some information, or if he should feel angry that his brother had left anyway.

Saving the number in his cellphone, he folds the paper and sets it carefully between the pages of his journal. No one would spot it there, he's sure.

_If anyone would, it's Damon._

Stefan can't quite forget his brother's tendencies to read his journal.

"Stefan?"

Stefan jerks his head up. "Elena? What are you doing here?"

Elena gives him a small smile and reaches up to hug him. Stefan breathes in her perfume and pulls her tighter against him. He misses this.

"You okay?"

The Salvatore pauses to think. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Elena raises an eyebrow. "Damon's leaving, Stefan. Aren't you worried or…" She runs a hand through her hair. "I just can't believe he's leaving. He's been a part of so _much_ and that he's not going to be here anymore…" She meets her boyfriend's eyes and seems to realize something. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

Stefan lifts his hand and grips her shoulder soothingly. His gaze firm and steady, he smiles. "It's okay. I know you care for him. I don't want my brother to leave either."

Elena lets out a loud sigh. "I told the others that he's leaving."

"They'll find out anyway."

"Where is he? I tried calling him but he won't pick up."

Stefan hesitates. He almost forgets that Damon had upped and left without letting everyone know. Forgets that his brother hadn't deigned to tell _when_ he was leaving. He bites his bottom lip and levels his gaze with Elena's. "Damon already left, Elena."

Elena's brown eyes widen in shock. Her forehead knits and furrows as confusion flits across her features. Tries to say something but fails. "He…He already _left?_"

Stefan nods, closing his eyes. "Yesterday night."

"Why didn't he tell us?" Elena asks, disbelieving. She walks to the couch and drops herself onto the soft material. "I was going to hold something for him. Tell him goodbye." She lifts her head towards Stefan. "Show him he means something to us."

"I'm sure he knows. He just doesn't want to admit it."

Both of them fall silent. Stefan walks quietly to Elena's side and squeezes her arm. A part of him lingers on her feelings for Damon. Feelings he's not quite sure he wants to know. He knows she cares for him enough to die for him; that whatever it is she feels for Damon is much stronger than she will admit. But another bigger part of him dwells on his brother.

They may have been apart for decades over the century and a half they have been alive, but the recent happenings had pulled them together.

And after all that anger and dread and _worry_, Stefan had learnt to depend on his brother.

Despite falling over the edge and becoming one with the Ripper, Damon never left. The younger Salvatore couldn't deny that he was…grateful and _touched_ and just so glad that his brother never gave up on him. Even though he had killed Andie; even though he had done anything and everything to push Damon and Elena away.

Damon just kept proving again and again that he was…worth it.

Elena leans into him. Her long brown strands of hair tickles his jaw and he breathes in deeply. Stefan wants to smile at this. It is what he has been longing for for so long.

To live his life with her by his side. It's the one thing he has always been sure of. Yet…he no longer knows if that's what he still wants without question. It's the reason his brother left.

Just like in 1864, Stefan Salvatore is too selfish to let his brother go.

* * *

Damon slinks into a corner of the bar. He glances furtively at the crowd of people around him, too used to being hunted in the recent months. An unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people. Granted the town was only a few minute vampire-run away from Mystic Falls, but he's on the first step to moving on.

"Hello _there_…" a voice drawls.

Damon eyes her out of the corner of his peripheral vision and an arrogant smirk creep into his features. She is a brunette with long thick curls that end at her waist. High cheekbones that fits near perfectly into her sharp features. Her eyelashes lower, concealing half of the dark forest that is her eyes, as she plunks herself down beside the vampire.

The Salvatore eyes her appreciatively. "Hello to you too." He leans his elbow against the counter.

"I'm Amanda." The corners of her lips stretch into smile and her eyes seem to twinkle. Strangely it reminds Damon of his brother's when they were younger.

"Damon."

"So...are you here alone?" She takes a small sip of bourbon from the glass, her gaze never leaving him.

Damon raises his eyebrows playfully. "Well, not anymore."

Amanda laughs. She throws back her hair and her smile widens. "I think we're going to have a great time today, Damon."

Damon grins, mocks a gasp of surprise. "Well, what do you know? I think so too."

They spend the rest of the night getting drunk.

* * *

[3 hours later – 00:17]

Damon stumbles out from the bar, feeling the undesired urge to retch as his stomach pulls and churns. He lets out a muffled moan. How did he…Was he drunk? That isn't possible. He knows liquor helps with the craving but vampires just don't get drunk*.

The strange buzz that slowly crept into his muscles and _bones_ only registered about an hour after his drinking session with Amanda. He ignored it then. _That girl was way more important. _Distracting.

At least the last time he remembers being so light-headed and unbalanced after a drink is when he was human.

He continues to walk (tries to) and makes it a few steps before he drops to his knees. His vision blurs; everything seems to dip in and out into different shades of grey and black; a mixture forming a painting of dull streaks. He thinks he hears voices. But then they start to fade too.

A splitting headache starts to pound against his skull and, this time, he doesn't stop himself from throwing up. A dark crimson splatters his fingers, thick and viscous. _Blood_.

"Just great," he moans.

Damon quickly fumbles for his cell. _Please, please answer._

_..._

_Now._

"Damon."

He would have sighed if he could. "Stefan."

There was a brief pause. "What's wrong?"

Damon breathes in deeply, pressing his forefinger against his forehead. It feels as if his head is being torn in two. _Thud-thud-thud_. Definitely not drunk.

"Feels like-" He gasps and lets out a racking cough. "Like my head's splitting into two." He groans. "Damn it."

"What's going on? Where are you?"

Damon allows his body to fall against the cement floor, his legs curling slightly. "Don't know. Back of note I gave you," he whispers.

He faintly hears the sound of crashing. "Is there anyone near you? A witch? Vampire?"

His chest heaves. His eyes roll back into his head before sliding back into focus. Tries to make sense of what's happening but he's too confused. Was it a witch? But it feels different from the usual head 'explosions' that Bonnie used to do on him.

"Damon? Hey, focus on me." A door slams. "Damon!"

"Trying to, Stef," he forces out between clenched teeth.

"I'm on the way. Don't hang up, and talk to me." A pause. "Just hang on, okay?"

Damon drops the phone, ignoring the part where he should talk. His brother curses on the other end. The older Salvatore almost snorts in amusement. Whoever is doing this is so not getting away with it.

His eyelashes start to lower and blink slowly as his sense of time starts to fade.

Damon thinks he sees someone bend over him; hears a chuckle somewhere above him; and feels something prod at his chest.

He lifts his hand to touch the stake but stops at a second thought.

He lets out a breath.

Is this…how he will die?

Not by fire, or by war, or by protecting those he cares for. But through a simple stake through the heart. And less than a day after he left probably the most dangerous town for vampires.

How pathetic, he sneers at himself.

"Goodbye, vampire."

The stake plunges into his chest.

* * *

Please review! Are they OOC? Or was anything too confusing?


	4. Change

The Edge – Chapter 4

Change

* * *

I'm so sorry for the late update, but had a bit of a writer's block. Here's the 4th chapter. Again, do tell me if I have any of the characters OOC. Tell me where I went wrong and I'll do my best to correct my mistakes. :) And...Thank you for the reviews! They're wonderful and I just love all of you readers, whether you review or not, who has taken the time to read, follow, favorite or review this fic.**  
**

Enjoy! :)

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Vampire Diaries or any of its characters.

* * *

Damon expels a low moan. His eyes flutter as he realizes that he is in the room he had booked the night before.

The curtains are drawn and not a ray of sunlight peeks into the room. His mobile phone is sitting innocently on the glossy brown wood. The room is exactly as he left it. The vampire frowns, disoriented. He wasn't supposed to be here... Was he?

He untangles himself from the bed sheets and sits up, scanning the room for any sign of danger. He touches the back of his head. A slight headache still pounds near the edges of his skull and he can feel a deep aching throbbing throughout his abdomen. The frown deepens.

With a start, he remembers the attack and_ –_ he curses – the stake. Shifting, he rolls his shirt up and peers at his seemingly unblemished skin. A finger prods at the smooth surface, lightly at first then, with a narrowing of the eyes, he presses his palm hard against his skin.

A sharp flare of pain sears through his body. His eyes widen slightly and he pulls his lips into a grimace.

_The hell?_

He should have healed by now. His flawless skin is proof of that but as far as healing goes, there should be no pain. Unless something screwed that up along the way, he thinks wryly. As they always do. Somehow he isn't so surprised.

He tugs his shirt down and gently eases himself off the bed. Though pain is as constant as rain to him, he does not like the feeling. He wonders if he owes Stefan a grudging apology. Not only did he successfully make a fool out of himself by dramatically leaving Mystic Falls by ending up nearly _staked_, he simply just _had_ to call his brother to save him.

He wrinkles his nose slightly. By his standards, that is rather pathetic.

His gaze sweeps through the room; everything is still as he left it…except his suitcase. Instead of its prior haphazard location in the middle of the room, the luggage is placed neatly by the door, packed and ready to go. Within an instant, the Salvatore propels himself to the bathroom.

He vaguely remembers pulling out a fresh set of clothes and throwing his old ones into the sink….

…which aren't there anymore.

Damon tilts his head as footsteps nears his door, followed by gentle rapping. Subconsciously tensing, he opens the door.

A young brunette is standing there, a housekeeper by the looks of her navy blue uniforms. She glances at him shyly.

He smiles politely. "How may I help you?" _Human_.

"I'm here to check the room, Sir."

Damon raises an eyebrow curiously. "Why?" he asks after a brief pause.

Confusion flits across her features before she smooths it with a tender smile. "You wrote in that you'd be checking out tonight. I have to carry out the necessary protocol to ensure everything -" she gestures to the room "- is in place before you leave."

He takes this in and slowly nods. "I understand. Could you come back in maybe a few hours before you carry it out?"

"I don't think I -"

"_You will move on and return to this room only after I have left this hotel,_" he compels. "_Forget this conversation ever happened_."

His smile widens before he slams the door shut.

Silently deciding he had enough, Damon picks up his cell. This has 'little bro' markings everywhere. Fuming, he stalks to the windows as he lifts the small device to his ear.

There is a click.

"I'll be back soon."

He yanks the curtain to the side.

"Stefan, you-"

The afternoon Sun cloaks the vampire in full heat and a scream is forced out of his throat. Damon throws himself to the corner of the room, ice blue eyes wide. His skin heals despite the increasing disturbed pounding in his stomach. He hears his brother's intake of breath from the dropped phone.

He curses breathlessly.

"You _bastard_. You took my ring," he says in disbelief.

* * *

Stefan mumbles random excuses, hoping and failing to placate his highly frustrated brother. Giving Damon one final assurance that he will return soon, he ends the call and sighs. Funny how he still falls back into his old habit of walking on eggshells around Damon, especially when the latter is in a mood.

_Not that you can blame him now, could you?_

He rounds the corner, determined. He has more important things to take care of, like getting rid of his ever-annoying brother's almost-killers. Yes, killers. Trust Damon to gather a duo who made it their life mission to eradicate all forms of unnatural creatures, namely vampires. He just had to fall into their radar.

[Flashback]

_The gasped moan is the first thing that registers in Stefan's mind as he blurs across the town. _

_He sees them a bit of distance away from the bar and he inwardly curses himself for not realizing sooner. Damon is on his back, his lips parted as his dark, dark blue eyes blink blearily at his assaulter. The younger Salvatore finds himself moving faster, his brown tresses flailing softly as his own forest eyes narrow in anger._

_His brother had only left the night before and already he is in trouble. Stefan silently rebukes himself. He should never have let Damon leave his sight._

_They could protect each other if together, but if separated…_

_Stefan doesn't quite want to contemplate that._

_A deep-rooted panic burst into his veins as he watches – and his mind screams – his brother reach out in one last attempt to stop the stake from piercing his heart, freezes as he watches that same hand hesitate._

Did he just…

_Damon's hand fall. A loud gasp escapes his mouth and his eyes widen as the stake embeds itself in his chest._

_Stefan slams himself into the man. The latter emits a small grunt of surprise. Stefan blurs to his brother and yanks the stake out. His eyebrow twitches as Damon groans, eyes fluttering slowly. A sickening sense of relief washes over the younger Salvatore. Damon is alive. _For now_, the dark confines of his mind whispers._

_His gaze trails along the older Salvatore's seemingly unblemished self until he saw the gaping hole in his brother's lower body._

_Stefan pushes himself to his feet, swivels round and shoots a patented death glare at the attacker. He is tallish and tan with blonde hair. His right ear is pierced, his eyes an ugly brown. Stefan notes curiously that he is missing a finger on his left._

"_Who are you?"_

_The man flicks a glance at Damon. "This has nothing to do with you."_

"_You tried to kill my brother. I should think it has something to do with me."_

_Realization dawns on the man's features. He narrows his eyes in disgust. "You're a vampire."_

_Stefan allows himself a hint of a smirk. "Obviously. Now why don't you answer the question and tell me what you're doing to my brother."_

_He hears his brother moan behind him and his smile falls away._

"_Stefan…"_

_Before he knows it, he's standing inches from the vampire hunter, the stake held firmly at the latter's neck. "You will tell me what I want to know," he hisses. "Or I will _drive_ this stake through your heart."_

[End of flashback]

Stefan had found out that, as suspected, a witch is involved. Wonderful. Other than Bonnie, he can never quite bring himself to trust witches. They are complicated, fussy, vengeful, and…they just have a lot of feelings. Even Bonnie isn't an exception to that.

He quickens his pace, hands fisting at his sides. Discreetly scanning the area, he knocks on the door of room 312. Footsteps follow and the door opens, revealing a light brunette.

She eyes him down. "How may I help you?"

Stefan smiles. "I'm here to kill you."

* * *

[4 hours later]

"Elena, I had to go meet Damon. I'm okay." After an afterthought, he adds, "We both are."

Elena sounds flustered. "But you're coming back right? Stefan?"

"Of course I am. I just had to meet him for a while."

"Why didn't you take me? I'm not human anymore. I can handle it."

Stefan chews on his bottom lip. He enters the hotel quickly, his footsteps loud and clear in the near-empty lobby. "I know. But this is something between my brother and me, Elena. You're right. You're a vampire now. All the more you should focus on trying to live your life."

"You disappeared, Stefan. And right after Damon! I couldn't bear the thought of the _both_ of you gone."

Despite himself, he frowns. He never quite could reconcile himself with the fact that both his brother and girlfriend drew comfort from each other. "I'll be back soon."

Elena hesitates. "Okay. Just…just be safe okay?"

"I got it."

He ends the call and stops before Damon's room. Wondering briefly if his brother would skin him alive, he shrugs and opens the door.

* * *

"Give me my ring."

Stefan quirks an eyebrow. His brother is huddling at one corner of the room, away from the 3 o'clock sunlight. The room being as small as it is, the windows gives way to the brimming sunlight that filled the entire room. He notes Damon has a hand pressed firmly against his stomach.

"You could have closed the curtains." Stefan sets aside the drinks he bought and blurs across the room, feeling Damon's glare boring into his back. "Would only have hurt awhile."

He pulls the curtain close. The room immediately darkens.

Damon growls. "Says the one who left me here without leaving a note or something that could have said 'hey, this is Stefan, I'll be back soon. -" he makes a mocking imitation of his brother's voice. "- Oh, and by the way, stay away from the sunlight 'cause, I don't know, I took your ring.'"

Stefan tosses his brother's ring at him. "Here. Didn't want you to leave."

The older vampire catches it and doesn't hesitate in giving the other vampire the cold, calculating stare.

"Come on, Damon. I had to run here to save you." Stefan picks up a glass. He pours himself some bourbon and offers his brother a glass. Staring him down critically, Damon chews the inside of his cheek, though not turning down the drink. "I thought that I might not actually want my brother –" he accentuates the words purposefully "– running errant in a town where someone might bump him off."

"You alright? Heard the witch got you good."

Damon downs the bourbon. "I can take care of myself," he says indignantly.

"Didn't seem like it to me, brother."

"What? I was careless." The placating expression doesn't leave the younger's face and Damon sighs, annoyed. "It happens," he goes on and shrugs as if his answer solves everything.

Stefan scoffs lightly. He clasps Damon on his arm, refilling the now empty glass in the latter's hand. "Carelessness could get you killed. I might not be there to save you next time."

Damon rolls his eyes. "I won't need you to."

"That's what you implied yesterday before you left. It still happened. If the next time it happens, you might be too far away for me to reach in time. That is, if you even had time to give me a call."

"Look, it's no big deal, Stefan. I was careless. It won't happen again."

"You're right. It won't," Stefan says seriously. "You're coming back with me to Mystic Falls."

Damon tenses and wonders for a moment if he heard right. He turns and effects his most fitting '_are you crazy?_' look he can muster. Apparently he had heard right when his younger brother's neutral expression – the one which he always wore when bracing one Damon Salvatore's usually explosive reactions – doesn't budge.

"No," he begins slowly, as if talking to a five-year-old, though with Stefan he kinds of have to knock it into his head with a hammer before he understands. "I'm not."

Stefan blinks. "I think you are," he tells his sibling matter-of-factly.

"Is this what that's about?" Damon asks incredulously, glancing at his packed suitcase. He rivets a fierce look at his brother. "You're kidding me."

Stefan sighs. "You almost died, Damon. I had to go kill a vampire hunter and hunt down a witch because you couldn't be bothered with being careful enough to stay alive." He pauses and pushes himself off the wall he's been leaning on. His voice turns accusing. "You know, I didn't let you go just for you to get yourself killed."

Anger flares in Damon's blue orbs. "So you've put on your bossy pants, Saint Stefan," he snaps. "And since when did I need your permission for anything? _I'm_ the older brother here."

"Then act like it."

Damon blurs across the room and stands inches from his brother. "You don't get to decide things for me, Stefan. Not anymore."

Stefan accepts this with a shrug. "The witch cast a spell on you. It won't wear off until a few days." He gestures to Damon's lower abdomen. "I imagine it hurts if you move the wrong way."

The older Salvatore glances at his stomach, his hand lifting involuntarily to touch it. He speaks up after a moment, voice low. "I took care of myself just fine before Mystic Falls."

Stefan seems to run his answer through his head. "We…changed. Damon. I'm no longer the one I used to be. The same goes for you. We've become more reckless, more wary and it's hard for us to trust anyone we meet because they might be related to Klaus, and we don't want that." He places both arms on his sibling's shoulders. "But if we're _together_, we can look out for each other, Damon. We won't have to look over our shoulders all the time.

"So please," he continues, a slight pleading lacing his words. "If you won't come back with me, at least let me go with you, until – until you're all better." He hopes the older vampire will at least agree on that compromise. He's sick of the endless worrying and plans that he came up with. Nothing seems the better alternative other than them staying together.

As it should have been from the start, he thinks wistfully.

Damon stares searchingly into Stefan's green eyes and maybe it's the plea in his voice, or perhaps it is the ache in his chest, but he sighs and nods.

"Fine," he mutters grumpily. He snatches the bottle of bourbon from the table and gives the latter a weary look. "Let's get out of here, before little Miss Gilbert decides to pop in to visit."

A feeling of relief creeps into the younger's self. The corners of his lips curl upwards slightly. "I didn't tell her."

"Sure you didn't." Damon reaches the door and says something that has Stefan's eyes widening in surprise.

He doesn't know what to make of it, if he should feel regret at the words or oddly touched at the accompanying resigned smile.

_You're still the same selfish brother I knew in 1864._

* * *

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